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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851833">Bad Decisions - 3rd part - this will probably change</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarbageHuman/pseuds/GarbageHuman'>GarbageHuman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Decisions [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tokyo Ghoul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:35:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarbageHuman/pseuds/GarbageHuman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jana and whoever decides to stop by. Will be adding to this much later...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Decisions [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194710</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Operation Get What's-His-Name and Jana the Hell out of Here - Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>these 2 chapters were previously published but I was dumb and kept them with what is part one of the story/series - putting them here in "part 3" where things can wait a bit and make more sense</p><p>I'll add tags later on.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CCG Headquarters, 4<sup>th</sup> Floor</p><p> </p><p>April 2<sup>nd</sup></p><p>9:34 A.M.</p><p> </p><p>Jana jolted upright in her chair to the sound of the door being flung open and the clatter of a metal chair crashing to the floor seconds later. She quickly turned her head toward the noise to see a large, battered figure slumped and panting on the floor several feet from where she sat, another towering over, shouting obscenities and commands. The figure – a large, filthy, disheveled man in the tattered remains of a very soiled prison uniform - had backed away from the officer and was now against the wall, looking up, wild-eyed and frantic, his gaze darting up at the officer and then around the room as if he were looking for an escape. Streaks and smears of fresh blood made a path on the tile floor that led from the door to where the man now crouched, arms raised slightly in an attempt to fend off the fists and metal baton of the officer.</p><p> </p><p>She sat frozen in her chair, knowing that she was witnessing something she wasn’t supposed to see. Part of her wanted to do something – anything – she couldn’t just sit there, but what the hell could she do to help? She knew that the man on the floor was a ghoul, and that the other was a CCG officer – or at least someone contracted by them. Intervening even in the slightest would mean charges filed against her, imprisonment, and who knows what else. She swallowed hard in an attempt to get rid of the lump rising in her throat, and turned slightly, catching a glimpse of the man’s battered face. “No…” she thought to herself, her breath catching a little, recognizing the ghoul’s features. Even in this state, the shape of his nose, his jawline... “That can’t be him… is it?” Her mind flashed to three and a half years ago – or was it four?</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Jaaaa-naaaa,” Kenta waved his hands in front of her face, a sly, knowing smile creeping across his face. “Just who are you watching over there?” he nodded his head toward the crowd just ahead of them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just moments before, a rather impressive-looking dark-haired man who could most definitely fill out the suit he was wearing had walked out of a department store, and Jana couldn’t take her eyes off him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man – whoever he was – must have known he was being watched, because as Jana stood there telling herself no, she was NOT going to go talk to man to a man she didn’t know because that would make her desperate and CRAZY, he turned and actually looked. her. In. the. eye.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod he looked at me,” she whispered, giggling like a thirteen-year-old girl. She was certain her face was about five different lovely shades of pink.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, pink is definitely your color, my friend,” Kenta snorted.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh shu-“ BAM!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Forehead, meet lightpole.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Jana?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Jana, hey…uh… are you alright?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Jana bit her lip and nervously stared at the laptop screen in front of her, fingers poised above the keyboard, the sounds of metal, fists, and occasionally what sounded like the heavy sole of a boot hitting flesh assaulting her ears. She winced and clenched her eyes shut at every punch, every slap, every crack. She had sat down at the small table just moments earlier to begin typing up her notes from the previous day and now was witnessing a man being beaten almost senseless just a few feet away. “Kenta, what do I do…” she pleaded silently. Dammit, she missed him. The goofy red-haired Koukaku – who had been her closest friend and confidante since they were both five – would have come up with something outlandish, no doubt, and then would have taken care of the situation – Kentaro style - as he would say. But here she was, watching a person being beaten senseless just a few feet away – with nothing to do but feel panicked and helpless. Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed the officer pick up the metal chair that had been knocked over earlier, and in an instant, raise it over his head and bring it down onto the head and shoulders of the prisoner.</p><p>A sickening crunching sound filled the room as soon as metal met flesh. Jana’s insides turned over as she watched the officer lift the chair high above his head. Not quite knowing what to do and not wanting to see one more second of a person attempting to beat another person to death, Jana jumped up from her chair.</p><p> </p><p>“NO!”</p><p> </p><p>Jana gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth as soon as the sound had escaped her lips – her eyes wide as the officer turned and began to walk toward her, his eyes cold and menacing. Jana’s heart raced as the man got closer, the bile beginning to rise in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to slow her breathing.  And then, before she even realized what was happening, Jana’s stomach lurched and flipped on itself, and proceeded to project the entire contents of her breakfast (her usual pastry and two cups of coffee) onto the front of his shirt.</p><p> </p><p>She could only stand there, frozen in a mixture of humiliation, disbelief, and fear – silently pleading for her insides to <em>calm down</em>. The officer stepped backwards, away from her, an almost comical mixture of surprise and disgust on his face, and stomped hurriedly out of the room, the door slamming behind him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>9:38 A.M.</p><p> </p><p>Jana took a deep, shaking breath. She needed a mint – maybe she had one in her purse. Or gum. Something to get the awful taste out of her mouth. She looked down. At least she hadn’t gotten much on the front of her blouse. She wrinkled her nose as she flicked tiny bits of her breakfast from her sleeve, then, trying to gain some semblance of composure, glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the very still and quiet figure still huddled in the corner, a rather bent metal chair laying on the floor beside him.</p><p> </p><p>Jana tentatively moved toward the man on the floor, who now had his head turned slightly toward her, one eye open, the other nearly swollen shut. The man made no move whatsoever, seeming not to be at all interested in the fact that, in just a few steps, she was close enough to touch him. Jana bit her lip as hot tears began to fill her eyes and spill onto her cheeks, despite her best efforts to regain what little composure she had left. A flood of emotions began to rush through her:</p><p> </p><p>               …anger (oh, she was <em>so fucking angry at this place, and these people…especially that goddamn officer) </em></p><p>
  
</p><p><em>                              …</em>guilt (why couldn’t she have done something to stop this from happening, or stop what happened to Kenta),  </p><p> </p><p>                                             …sadness – the dark, terrible, heart-wrenching kind – a sadness that bore a hole in her heart and had left a black void of emptiness inside her – a thing she kept well-hidden from everyone around her with her usual sarcasm, humor, and wit.</p><p> </p><p> She suddenly found herself kneeling on the floor with her arms around the battered man, her head resting on the nape of his neck. She began to sob uncontrollably, tears flowing down her cheeks, onto her chin, into his hair.</p><p> </p><p>At first, he remained still, and silent, feeling the warmth of her embrace, the softness of her cheek against the crook of his shoulder. But then he tensed – this wasn’t right – here was this woman – this <em>human</em> – who, more than likely than not, thought he was a monster – a non-person, less than, inferior – a thing...</p><p>But… she was… crying? Stupid… stupid…stupid female… Did she <em>want </em>to die? This was not usually what happened when a human – much less a woman – came face to face with him. And this one had put her arms around him – what the hell…? Was she secretly planning to jab one of those needles into his back when he wasn’t expecting it? Was she holding a blade…? Maybe that was it. He tensed again and waited, silently.</p><p>Yet… The touch was comforting, sincere – the fingers of one hand lightly stroking him. Wait – no this wasn’t right… Humans didn’t care about his kind. What the hell was he thinking – this woman didn’t give a rat’s ass about <em>him</em>. He jerked away, eyeing the woman suspiciously.</p><p>“Get the fuck away from me,” he growled, pushing her away.</p><p> </p><p>Jana scooted backward, giving him some space. “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes fixed on the floor. She thought it might not be a good idea to look him in the eye.</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, wiping her face with her sleeve, then realized – <em>he’s coming back – I know he is – what the fuck do I do?? </em>Out of the corner of her eye, the red glowing numbers of the clock on the wall read 9:42 A.M.</p><p> “I need to get you out of here.” Her voice was shaky, no more than a hoarse whisper.</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” he snorted. “You,” he now sat more upright, his eyes (or, at least, the one good one) boring holes into her. “<em>You’re</em> going to help me. A pathetic, crying girl is going to get <em>me </em>out of this place.”</p><p> </p><p>Jana had to agree with him. At the moment, she <em>was</em> a pathetic, crying girl who really had no idea how the hell she was going to get the rather imposing ghoul out of the building without the two of them getting caught and killed.</p><p> </p><p>“I just…” she began, the reality of the situation hitting her like a ton of bricks: there really wasn’t much she could do at this point.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t <em>not</em> do something. I can’t just walk out of here today and pretend shit like this isn’t happening.” </p><p> </p><p>9:43 A.M.</p><p> </p><p>Jana glanced quickly around the room. The door was still closed. Her papers, notepad, pens, and cellphone were still scattered across the table she had been working at. Her bag under the table, half open, the empty bag from the pastry shop still inside. She had been finishing the last bites just before she walked into this hellhole. She reached for her phone, hoping she could actually get a signal.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He could come barging back in here any second, now…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>With the ghoul still eyeing her quite suspiciously, she dialed the number to the front desk at work – her brain too flustered at the moment to retrieve either Mr. Tsukiyama’s office number or that of his assistant. What was she going to tell them? <em>Hi, this is Jana, I need somebody to pick me and some guy up…oh and by the way – no, I don’t really know who he is</em>…?  No, that <em>really </em>wouldn’t work.</p><p> </p><p>She took a breath, slowly breathed out through her nose and waited. After two rings a polite, cheery voice answered, “Tsukiyama Industries, please hold one mome-“</p><p>“Suki!” Jana cut the receptionist off before she could press the hold button, “Suki, is he in? I need to speak with him – or… um….” Her heart was beginning to race, and she was beginning to feel the first signs of a panic attack coming on. She took a slow, deep breath in, then breathed out through her nose.</p><p>The woman on the phone must have heard the despair in Jana’s voice. “Jana? Is everything alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“I…um…” Jana tried to slow her breathing to steady her racing heart and calm the shakiness in her voice, pacing as she spoke. “Suki, can you request a driver for me? Oh, and…um… there’s something else...” She took a breath again, exhaling slowly. “Is it possible to help someone get out of this place…?” this time her voice barely above a whisper. She continued, keeping her voice low, knowing that at any moment somebody could come barging in. “I know – I...yes… but…Just…a gut feeling. No, he’s been given suppressants. He’s in no shape to do anything right now.” This was met by an angry glance of protest from the man in the room with her. For some reason, this made her smile. “He heard that.” She whispered into the receiver. “Okay, but whoever it is needs to hurry. Oh – um…” she glanced around the room. “I’m not sure, I know I’m on the fourth floor…”</p><p>Jana got up from the chair and went quietly to the door, praying there was no one on the other side, or in the hallway, and opened it just enough to glance at the number on the small placard just at eye-level. “413. I think it’s the second…no… the third hallway on the left after you exit the main elevator.” She hoped she had gotten that right: she was terrible at giving directions.</p><p>“Oh? – his name? Um…”</p><p>Jana realized then, of course, that she had no idea what the man’s name was.</p><p>“I don’t know his name,” she whispered into the phone, feeling her ears grow hot. “Ask him?” she turned her head toward the man sitting on the floor, not too far from her. “He doesn’t seem to want to say much to me.”</p><p> </p><p>A split-second after ending the call with Miss Noguchi, it hit her like a ton of bricks. Ten minutes. She – or they – had to wait ten minutes before someone from Tsukiyama Industries would show up – and that was just to the front gate. Then of course, there would be the usual red-tape negotiating and finding the right person to convince to look the other way, and then probably a phone call or two to call in a favor because – no doubt – it was definitely <em>who</em> you knew around here that really got things done. She hoped everything would fall into place, and operation ‘get Jana and what’s-his-name the hell out of here’ was a success.</p><p> </p><p>What’s-his-name, or, rather, Oomori Yakumo – Yakumo being his given name, sat with his back against the wall, his head pounding, unable to see clearly out of his left eye. He could hear the woman talking to someone named Suki on the phone, something about getting out of this place, a car… He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Fuck, his skull felt like it was going to explode.</p><p>He sat and listened – not that he had to try, since she was <em>right there</em> and he could hear just about every word anyway – at one point realizing she was talking about <em>him…</em></p><p><em>“I don’t know his name…” </em> Yakumo rolled his eyes, or at least tried to – might as well have bashed himself in the side of the head with a sledgehammer. Why? Did she think it was that important? He snorted to himself, wondering why she should even give a shit what his name was.</p><p>9:47 A.M. [<em>note: at this point, assuming this is before he actually starts calling himself “Yamori”, undecided if the story will continue down that path…]</em></p><p> </p><p>He watched her press the “end call” button on her cellphone and place it on the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Oomori.” He stared ahead now, not looking at her.</p><p> </p><p>Jana blinked and shook her head, her thoughts suddenly brought back from the worry of figuring things out: <em>did he just say something? </em> “Oh, I’m… I’m sorry?”</p><p> </p><p>“My name.”</p><p>“Oh!” Jana exclaimed, surprised that the man would volunteer the information. A small, faint smile crept across her lips as she silently repeated his name to herself. <em>Oomori. </em>A very nice name, she thought.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m Jana.”  She realized he was watching her and felt her cheeks getting warm. “Oh, by the way,” she turned to look at him, “I’m sorry about making such a scene earlier.” She bit her lip to suppress a smile. “Embarrassing myself is actually one of my many hidden talents.”</p><p> </p><p>She was answered with a snort and a headshake.</p><p> </p><p>Jana suddenly looked up. It was now 9:50 A.M. – still several minutes before a driver, or whoever was coming, would show up, and she really wasn’t sure even then how things would go. She suddenly grew worried again, her face clouding over. “They really need to hurry,” she whispered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II Operation Get What's-His-Name and Jana the Hell out of Here - Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>another transferred/reposted chapter. same deal.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>will add tags/fix this later</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>so here we are again with Jana and Yakumo... some guy shows up as the first part of the plan - which means I need to come up with more than just a sketchy outline for the next chapter. woo.</p><p> </p><p>I realize that this may not fit perfectly with Ishida's world, but I'm going to try my best to keep his original characters and at least most of their stories "true" - but I can't 100% pinky swear on that. Also, I believe that Oomori Yakumo did not begin as a complete asshole, so I'll be giving him a few redeeming qualities from time to time.</p><p> </p><p>9:48 A.M. CCG Headquarters</p><p>First Floor – Front Desk</p><p> </p><p>“One moment, please. I’ll have to clear this with someone upstairs,” the receptionist replied quickly to the individual on the phone, before placing the call on hold.</p><p> </p><p>On the other end of the line, Kurei Masaru had just opened his mouth to speak, only to have his words abruptly cut off. When the receptionist returned to the line, she sounded a bit flustered when she began to speak once more. “Sir, I apologize. I – I had no idea my supervisor was already aware of the situation. I’ll transfer you right away.”</p><p> </p><p>“No matter,” Masaru replied reassuringly, “Thank you, miss.”</p><p> </p><p>He then began his negotiations with the Director, as authorized by a high-ranking member of the Correction Bureau at the Ministry of Justice. This was one of many instances that showed just how advantageous it was that Tsukiyama Mirumo had such powerful friends. Five minutes was all it took to arrange a transfer, with transportation provided by one of the member corporations of the Tsukiyama conglomerate, of course. Everything would be done strictly according to the current law, at least that’s what one might think – if one were to ask questions about the matter.</p><p> </p><p>9:54 A.M.</p><p> </p><p>Now that everything was arranged, Masaru knew he needed to contact Ms. Lidečko to apprise her of the situation.  He found her number in the information brief he had received less than fifteen minutes earlier and punched the digits on his mobile phone.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p>9:55 A.M.</p><p> </p><p>Jana had just leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a few seconds to try to calm her nerves when she was jolted back to reality by the buzzing of her cellphone.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello? Yes, this is she.” Jana listened intently to Mr. Kurei as he quickly went over every detail of the pickup and transfer. Someone (he didn’t state specifically who that was) would be arriving with a car and instructions in approximately ten minutes, give or take a few. <em>Do not be alarmed, </em>Kurei told her. <em>He will be disguised as a member of the interrogation team. </em>She was also told that she was to wait for a separate car for herself, which then would take her home. She had tried to protest, saying that it just didn’t make sense to her that there should be two different cars, and two different people sent at two different times – but was politely but tersely cut off with the explanation that “This is how it is to be done.”</p><p> </p><p>9:57 A.M.</p><p> </p><p>Jana ended the phone call, after confirming what was to take place once again, and put her phone down on the table. She turned to look at Oomori, who was watching her with an expression that was a mixture of suspicion, disbelief, and – perhaps that was cautious optimism?</p><p> </p><p>“Somebody will be here soon to take you out of this place.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile, but was still quite anxious. She knew there was so much that could go wrong. She turned and began to busy herself putting her things away.</p><p> </p><p>She was answered by a nod – the closest to a “thank you” she was likely to get from someone like Oomori Yakumo, she figured.</p><p> </p><p>Jana continued speaking, if only to fill the awkward silence and urge the moments by to creep by a little faster, “I’m not sure who’s coming – all I was told was that it would be about ten minutes… oh! And we’re to listen for a specific pattern of knocks on the door,” she shrugged, then went on, “also, Kurei-san didn’t say one way or the other, but he made it sound as if whoever they’re sending is…um…” she looked at Oomori and raised her eyebrows a bit, “…not a ghoul… but I guess that makes sense, considering … I mean, I suppose that would make things a bit more exciting.”</p><p> </p><p>She was answered only by a silent stare.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, anyway, I’m sure you’ll be glad to get out of this place. I won’t be going with you, though - I’ll be waiting on a separate car to drive me home,” She added, trying to hide the fact that she was just the tiniest bit disappointed that she wouldn’t see him arrive safely to wherever he was being taken. She figured that was for the best, though. Besides, she figured the man was tired of her – no doubt she was getting on his nerves – so of course a car ride together would be the <em>last </em>thing he would want.</p><p> </p><p>Jana sighed and sat down on the floor, her back against the wall, noticing once again the trail of blood that began at the door, which was now mostly dried and had turned a dark, reddish-brown color. The chair from earlier was still on the floor. That damned chair. Jana thought it would be nice to smash it on a certain person’s head, if she ever had the chance. She looked over at Oomori, who was sitting just a couple of feet away, picking at the skin around his left thumbnail. “I never asked you…” she began, “…how are you feeling?” She glanced at the nasty purple and red bruise on the left side of his forehead that spread to his temple and past the corner of his eye, which was still swollen. She frowned and shook her head, “You look terrible.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” he answered, staring straight ahead, although the slight strain in his voice gave away the fact that he was in pain.</p><p> </p><p>Jana reached over and lightly squeezed his hand, giving him a little half-smile. But, really, just how reassuring could she actually be? To him, probably not at all, or at least that’s what she assumed.</p><p> </p><p>10:00 A.M.</p><p><em>Someone will be arriving in approximately ten minutes, </em>Mr. Kurei had told her.<em> You will hear three short knocks at the door, followed by four more three seconds later.</em> Now, about five minutes had passed – minutes which seemed like hours.</p><p> </p><p>“I feel like we’ve been waiting for hours…and I’m getting hu-“ She suddenly cut herself off. <em>I’m such a whiny bitch</em>, she thought to herself. <em>This man has been drugged, beaten, and is probably starving, and here I am complaining. </em>“Sorry – nevermind.”</p><p> </p><p>“I ate yesterday,” was his reply. “Could use some coffee, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“How about after we get out of here? The coffee here tastes like ass.” Jana wrinkled her nose and made a face. “The best place I’ve found so far is in the 20<sup>th</sup>, I think. Several blocks from where I live but worth it,” she closed her eyes and smiled – the little coffee shop would be paradise compared to where they were at the moment, that was for sure.</p><p> </p><p>Oomori raised an eyebrow at her.</p><p> </p><p>Jana turned to look at him, and noticed he was giving her “a look”. At the same time, she realized what she had just said – which was basically asking the man out for coffee – and felt her face turn warm.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! I… Um…” she began to stammer, “I just meant – if you were wanting a good cup of coffee, I know a place – and I go there frequently anyway…” Of course, none of this did anything to lessen the bright pink color that graced her cheeks. <em>Wow, Jana, seriously…you’re such an idiot, </em>she thought to herself.</p><p> </p><p>Oomori merely snorted and shook his head. At least this time the movement didn’t make his skull feel like it was about to explode. Maybe the damn suppressants were wearing off. He hated how that shit had made him feel: his head (along with the throbbing pain, courtesy of officer Son-of-a-Bitch) felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, and every nerve ending in his body felt like it was either frayed or twisted the wrong way.</p><p> </p><p>The next several minutes dragged by, punctuated by a few words of small talk between the two new acquaintances, along with quite a bit of awkward silence.</p><p> </p><p>10:07 A.M.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Kurei Masaru had said would happen, three short knocks on the door broke the silence and put both Oomori and Jana on alert. Jana turned to look at Oomori-san, eyebrows raised. “I suppose… they’re here for you, then,” she said, with just a hint of a smile. “That’s good.”</p><p> </p><p>Four more knocks followed, and Jana got up, her stomach in knots: what if somebody - the wrong somebody - had somehow overheard Mr. Kurei talking to her, and this was someone sent to drag both her and Oomori into separate cells and- <em>Jana oh my GOD quit thinking like that,</em> she told herself, and slowly opened the door.</p><p> </p>
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